ere,” I murmur softly in an effort to reassure him. I reach
out to place my palm on the side of his face, trying to
soothe him.
“You were gone,” he whispers rapidly. His eyes are
still wild and frightened, but he seems to be calming.
“I went to get a drink. I was thirsty.”
He closes his eyes and rubs his face. When he opens
them again, he looks so desolate.
“You’re here. Oh, thank God.” He reaches for me,
and grabbing me tightly, he pulls me down on the bed
beside him.
“I just went for a drink,” I murmur.
Oh, the intensity of his fear . . . I can feel it. His Tshirt
is drenched in sweat, and his heartbeat is pounding as
he hugs me close. He’s gazing at me as if reassuring
himself that I am really here. I gently stroke his hair and
then his cheek.
“Christian, please. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere,”
I say soothingly.
“Oh, Ana,” he breathes. He grasps my chin to hold me
in place, and then his mouth is on mine. Desire sweeps
through him, and unbidden my body responds—it’s so tied
and attuned to him. His lips are at my ear, my throat, then
back at my mouth, his teeth gently pulling at my lower lip,
his hand tra一veling up my body from my hip to my breast,
dragging my T-shirt up. Caressing me, feeling his way
through the dips and shallows of my skin, he elicits the
same familiar reaction, his touch sending shivers through
me. I moan as his hand cups my breast and his fingers
tighten over my nipple.
tighten over my nipple.
“I want you,” he murmurs.
“I’m here for you. Only you, Christian.”
He groans and kisses me once more, passionately,
with a fervor and desperation I’ve not felt from him before.
Grabbing the hem of his T-shirt, I tug and he helps me pull
it off over his head. Kneeling between my legs, he hastily
pulls me upright and drags my T-shirt off.
His eyes are serious, wanting, full of dark secrets—
exposed. He folds his hands around my face and kisses
me, and we sink down into the bed once more, his thigh
between both of mine so that he’s half-lying on top of me
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